


Snapshots

by labyrinths_scribe



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 05:04:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3516386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labyrinths_scribe/pseuds/labyrinths_scribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles and itty-bitty snapshots into the lives of Cartson and Starkinelli. Mostly Cartson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jack had never seen Peggy quite that angry. She looked almost wild, with her red cheeks and gritted teeth, and reminded Jack of a cobra waiting to strike. Dooley’s death had left an empty space in the chain of command and instead of promoting an agent from their office, some bigwig from D.C. decided it would be better to bring someone new in.

"I don’t give a damn what you think we should do, Carter, so why don’t you make yourself useful and go file something," Carl Jackson snarled at Peggy.

"Look, Chief, just tell us what you want us to do and we’ll do it," Jack said, intervening before someone got hurt.

"Thank you, Agent Thompson, now I-"

"All due respect, Mr. Jackson, I was speaking to Agent Carter,"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I messed up, Marge, I messed up,"

"I messed up, Marge, I messed up," Jack laughed, a spray of blood in his exhale.

"Just breathe, Jack, and stay conscious. The cavalry is coming, and we’ll get you patched up."

"I don’t think so Peggy, not this time; that Russian bitch is good with a knife, so you be careful when you catch up to her,"

"Jack Bloody Thompson you are not allowed to die; too many good men gave their lives for this war, and for your own sake you had better not be one of them!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't want children, Jack! Not now, not ever!"

"I don’t want children, Jack! Not now, not ever.”

"Okay, alright, take it easy," Jack said, moving forward to embrace his wife as she began to cry. "I will support you, no matter what you want to do, but I happen to think you’d make an excellent mother,"

Her pregnancy had been unplanned, and when she had received the results of her Bufo test, she found herself completely out of her depth for the first time in a over a decade; she had never even held a child. She was comfortable with her routine, and the danger that accompanied her job, and a baby would change everything.

How could she even think of bringing a child into this world knowing that Leviathan had painted a target on her back?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She hates the name, always has, but there's something about the way he says it. So she lets him call her Margaret."

She hates the name, always has, but there’s something about the way he says it. So she lets him call her Margaret.

"Make me a cup of coffee, Margaret?" Jack asks as she walks by his desk, the bags under his eyes making him look ten years older than he truly was. Dooley’s death had hit them all hard, but it seemed to hit Jack worst than the rest.

Margaret was what her parents called her when they were cross; what the army officer had called her when he delivered the condolences of the United States government for the death of Steve Rogers; what Howard called her when he was being his most sincere.

But the way Jack said it was not like the rest. Even in such an innocuous request as asking for a cup of coffee, ‘Margaret’ didn’t sound like name. It sounded like a prayer.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can't do this, I'm sorry,"

"I can’t do this, I’m sorry," Jack admitted, the nervousness shown in his trembling hands creeping into his voice.

"Jack, my hands are cuffed behind my back. The only way to get them off without the bloody key is by shooting them off, and the only gun we currently have available to us is the one I can’t reach." She hissed, eyes scanning the unconscious bodies on the floor for any signs of movement. "The gun is literally four inches above your hand," She grumbled, growing weary.

"It’s also four inches further up your skirt," He growled, face reddening from the impropriety.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My life didn't please me, so I created my life."

"My life didn’t please me, so I created my life." Peggy said, her voice low and slightly bitter. The other agents of the SSR were listening keenly, sitting in the darkened bullpen with bottles of bourbon and whiskey being passed around.

"My parents were prominent socialites in England; my father was a decorated soldier, and my mother was from a noble line. They raised me to be the perfect socialite; I was well educated in music, dance, languages… And when I turned seventeen, my father tried to betroth me the son of a family friend. Nearly ten years my senior," She murmured, and readily accepted the bottle of bourbon passed to her.

She took a swig out of it and passed it on to the agent sitting next to her. “I… Wasn’t ready to be married. I volunteered in the army, to the utter shame of my family. When I was allowed to enlist properly, I did so, and I was disowned.”  
She admitted at last, swallowing thickly.

"And thank God for that," Jack said after a moment of silence, raising his glass in salute.

The other agents raised their glasses and offered a few whistles and cheerful bellows. “To Agent Carter!”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "(Not really prompt) Jack pushing Peggy up against a wall and making out with her pls."

"We’re being followed," Peggy whispered, moving herself closer to Jack’s side. 

Jack’s arm around her tightened. “I know,” He replied, lowering his mouth to her ear. They’d gone undercover as a couple out on a date to observe, and ideally sabotage, a deal being brokered between three of the five mafia families. Unfortunately, their actions clearly hadn’t been conspicuous enough.

"This place is crawling with capos, Jack, we can’t risk fighting our way out and breaking cover," She said whispered, and then giggled loudly enough for their shadow to hear, as they walked further down the darkened hallway leading towards the restrooms.

Without warning, Peggy found herself being pushed firmly against the wall, one of Jack’s hands on her hip and the other cradling her face. “Don’t hit me,” He murmured softly before he closed the minute distance between them and kissed her. Her mind short-circuited for a moment, trying to reconcile what he had said with the soft lips being pressed against her own.

All it once, her senses seemed overwhelmed. Her nose was filled with the scent of the aftershave he wore, and the fading scent of his cologne. She was having difficulty distinguishing where her body ended and his began; she could feel the hard planes of is body, the body heat he was radiating, but she could scarcely feel her own. He tasted like bourbon and mint, which was hardly surprising considering the drink they had shared less than an hour ago, but it startled her regardless.

When her mind finally caught up, she realized that by instinct alone she had begun returning his kiss with equal fervor. Her hands wandered from his chest to his broad shoulders, eventually settling on the back of his head. His head tilted to the side ever so slightly, and the kiss deepened; for all that he had kissed her firmly, it had been more chaste. This was deeper, more hungry and demanding, and Peggy dimly realized that this was no longer just a part of their cover.

A sharp whistle startled the two to break apart, their breaths uneven. “Get a room!”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'll never let you go,"

"I’ll never let you go," Jack said, sitting on the corner of her desk. "Not so long as there’s breath left in my body. I’ll never be able to go on without you by my side, Marge," He teased, smirking at her.

"Jack," Peggy sighed, giving him an affectionate but exasperated look. "I’m just… concerned is all,"

"I know you’re concerned, and I know why you’re concerned, but it’s going to be fine. You’re only going to be gone for a week. I promise not to burn the place down, Chief," He said, unable to contain his grin.

"That’s not even funny, Jack," She said, ready to lecture him again. 

He leaned forward quickly and kissed her gently, effectively silencing her. “You’re gonna miss your plane. I promise not to let the power go to my head like last time,”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're beautiful,"

"You’re beautiful," And he hadn’t meant to sound surprised, really. She was always beautiful, in bulky combat gear and skin tight dresses alike. Jack had just never voiced his opinion out loud; she wanted to be treated like an Agent first and foremost, no different than her male colleagues. And Jack sure as hell didn’t compliment Sousa on his sad brown doe eyes and matching ties.

"Thanks, Jack," She replied, tone wary, as if waiting for a less sincere comment to follow his compliment.

Jack smiled, embarrassed that he had spoken at all, and averted his eyes as he walked by her, determined to pretend he hadn’t spoken. 

"Jack," Her voice called out, and there was no way he could ignore the situation now.

"Yeah?" He asked, halting his exit, and faced her.

"I’m going to see a play tonight - my roommate is in it, actually. But it’s not starting for another hour or so… would you care to join me for a drink?" She asked, and Jack recognized an olive branch when he saw one - he’d extended her one only a few days ago.

"Sure, Carter," He said, his lips tilting upwards into their usual smirk. "But you’re buying the first round," 

Peggy laughed, but Jack could see a glimmer of mischief in her eyes and braced himself for her retort. Pulling on her coat, she strode forward to stand in front of him, and tilted her head up to look him in the eye. “Forgive me, Agent Thompson, but I was under the impression that beautiful girls don’t buy their own drinks,” And she grinned at him, tongue in cheek, before she walked away to leave him standing in an embarrassed stupor.

He could feel his face turning red and was immensely grateful that everyone else had already gone home or was occupied; he hadn’t had good cause to blush since he was sixteen. She kept walking and he eventually followed, pulling his own coat and hat on as he sought to catch up to her.

"Beautiful girls may not buy their own drinks, but girls that tease their escort do," He grumbled, ignoring the wicked smirk on her face.

He’d be lucky if she let it go in a month.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Have you lost your damn mind?"

"Have you lost your damn mind?" Jack bellowed, his mouth snapping shut with a hard click, slamming the office door behind him. He drew the blinds from where the other agents were watching them.

"Jack, really, is shouting necessary?" Peggy asked, and settled onto the sofa with a low groan.

"Leviathan issues an ultimatum: Give us Peggy Carter, or watch the SSR burn. We put you in a safe house, where you could be safe until we find the mole and remove them, and you show up here in broad daylight anyway.” And he wasn’t shouting anymore, but the low, raspy tone of his voice meant that he wanted to. 

"I was worried about my husband! Is that a crime?" Peggy snapped, refusing to raise her voice or move from her comfortable position on the couch.

"Of course not," He deflated a little, sighing, and kneeled in front of her. "But you’re pregnant, Peggy,” His hands rested on her protruding stomach, the thin cotton of her dress soft against his calloused hands. “And I want my wife and unborn child to be safe. We agreed that once you began the third trimester, you would go on leave,”

"The only reason I agreed to leave is because the doctor said our work was stressful, and stress isn’t good for the baby - well, you’re here and I’m already stressed. I could help, Jack," She stubbornly pushed, and ran a hand through his hair.

"Fine, but you’re not staying here," He said, his tone brooking no argument.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can't get her damn lipstick off his mouth. - Cartson

He can’t get her damn lipstick off his mouth. No matter how many times he’s tried, or different materials he’s used, it won’t come off. The napkins and linens he’s used are all coming off his mouth clean, untouched, but when he looks in the mirror he can see that his lips are stained red.

Kissing her hadn’t been planned. They were working on a case until the wee hours of the night, the only two agents stubborn enough to stick it out. Most of their time was spent bickering, bouncing theories and quips off each other; the quips admittedly got meaner whenever the coffee ran low.

His last teasing remark had set her off, full throttle, into a hellishly loud, righteous rant about respect and making use of ones skills effectively. Truthfully, he was so goddamned tired that he’d forgotten what he said ten  seconds after it left his mouth. But it hardly mattered; she’d already started her lecture. And he remembered watching her pace, her heels clicking sharply on the floor as she paced - and Christ, he thought she’d been wearing those things all day, didn’t her feet hurt?

It was almost four in the morning, and she was all bouncing curls and righteous fury and loud, angry, fiery comebacks. It was almost enough to make him laugh. So, when she swung back around to address him to his face, and invaded his personal space to do so, he hadn’t needed conscious thought - he just kissed her. One hand tangled in her curls and the other resting on her waist, it was the first time he’d had his hands full with her - well, the first time  _physically_. She was always a handful. He could see that she was surprised that he kissed her - hell,  _he_  was surprised that he’d kissed her.

But then she kissed him back, her mouth parting ever so slightly to deepen the kiss, and sank into his tentative embrace. Her arms wrapped around his neck to pull him closer; he was grateful she hadn’t removed her heels yet. His hand slid to her lower back, dangerously low to maintain propriety, and firmly pulled her closer until her body was firm against his own.

He wasn’t sure how long their kiss lasted, how long she had stood between his thighs as he sat on top of her desk and kissed him breathless, near senseless. They broke apart when they heard the elevator ding, dimly realizing that the early morning crew were arriving, and righted themselves properly.

Twenty-minutes in the mens room washing up, and he still couldn’t get her damn lipstick off his mouth. 

Jack ran a hand over his tired, scrubbed face. He wondered, briefly, if the lipstick wasn’t coming off, and everyone would know they’d kissed anyway, if she’d kiss him again?


	12. Atta Girl

_Attagirl._

Days after his death, Peggy can still hear his voice as clearly as if he was standing next to her. Her promise to track down the people responsible was not fulfilled, and it had not been forgotten. Fenhoff was in custody, yes, but Leviathan was still out there. His voice haunted her when she was awake; when she was sitting at her desk, or making coffee.

_Attagirl._

Sleeping offered her no reprieve. Instead, she was treated to reoccurring nightmares of his death. Some nights, she woke screaming, flying out of bed as if she wore the explosive vest herself. She’d woken Angie four nights this week alone.

As a result, she began to sleep less. If she wasn’t asleep, she couldn’t dream. If she wasn’t asleep, she wouldn’t wake wearing that godforsaken vest.

 _Attagirl_.

"Carter!" Jack’s voice was loud and harsh to her sensitive ears.

She snapped to attention, heart pounding; was this what Dooley had felt like, hearing Jack shouting his name through the glass? She was still in the office, at her desk; she had a late night shift and had obviously fallen asleep.

Jack was kneeling next to her, large hands firmly gripping her shoulders.

She sat up slowly, mind hazy and unfocused; as she felt something wet fall on her hand, she realized that she had been crying. She wiped away her tears and made an attempt at finger-combing her hair.

"What the hell Carter?" Jack asked, coat slung over his shoulder; his new position as chief all but demanded that he be the first one in the door in the morning.

"M’fine," She mumbled, and cleared her throat; it felt raw, like she’d been screaming. A quick glance at the clock told her it was a little after five. “What are you doing here so early?” She asked, frowning; Jack abhorred getting up early.

“Couldn’t sleep,” He answered honestly, looking at her warily. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” She lied, and heard a whisper in her mind.

_Attagirl._

She stood up abruptly, forcing his hands away from her shoulders, and promptly staggered, nearly falling to her knees. She felt dazed, and her head began to pound; all she could hear was the blood rushing through her heart. Jack caught her as she fell, scooping her up in his arms.

“Carter, can you hear me? Carter? Peggy?” He tried to get her to respond, beginning to panic at the dazed look in her eyes.

“Head… hurts,” She managed to mumble, clear enough for him to hear. She could feel her body moving, though she knew she wasn’t the one moving it. She blinked, and when she opened her eyes, she realized she was in Jack’s office, laying on the couch. The sun had risen, meaning it had to have been several hours since she’d passed out.

“You’re awake,” Jack said from his position at his desk. The office was dim; Jack had drawn all the blinds and was reading his files by lamplight. 

She sat up slowly, and noted that her headache seemed to have dissipated. “Yes,” She said, unsure of how to reply.

“You gave me a scare, Carter, fainting like that.” There was no reprimand in his tone, no anger, just neutrality laced with concern.

“I’m sorry, sir, won’t happen again,” She replied, and began to stand.

“Christ, Carter, would you knock it off?” He snapped, and slapped the file down on his desk. Peggy looked him in the eye for the first time since she’d woken. He looked haggard, older than he had been mere days ago, before Dooley’s death. 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, sir,” She said, eyeing him warily. Her headache had dimmed, to be sure, but her impromptu nap had done nothing to improve her mood.

“Peggy,” He sighed, almost pleading. “Just call me Jack. Or Thompson. Stop calling me ‘sir’. You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“With what?” She asked, and instantly regretted looking at him; his expression was full of tired concern and blatant irritation.

“Oh, you’re gonna be stubborn about it? Fine. What’s going on with the late nights? The falling asleep at your desk? The nightmares? I heard you scream - nearly broke down the goddamn door when I heard it. You said Dooley’s name,”

Peggy remained silent, feeling the weight of their conversation. This wasn’t a conversation she felt like having right now, in this office, with Jack sitting where he used to sit.

“Okay,” He said at last with a heavy sigh, and leaned back in his chair. “You don’t wanna talk, I can’t make you talk. Just… go home, get some sleep,” He waved his hand in clear dismissal and went back to his file.

“I can’t sleep,” The words left her mouth before she realized she was speaking. “Every day, I remember promising him that I would find the people responsible for his death… and every day that passes we’re no closer to finding them. I - I keep hearing his voice,” Her voice cracked, and belatedly Peggy realized that the tears she had been subduing for days would not be held back any longer. “Saying  _attagirl_ ,” A heavy sob choked her, making her shudder. “And…” She trailed off no longer able to speak coherently through her tears.

She was surprised when he stood and pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her waist. Whatever awkwardness he had experienced with Angie was gone now; he held her tightly and let her cry, and she did. She cried, and cried, and cried until the front of his shirt was almost soaked through. And though her head had begun to pound again, she found that she was beginning to feel better.

“We’re gonna get them, Carter, make no mistake. Dooley didn’t die for nothin’, I promise you.” He murmured in her ear, rubbing soothing circles in her back. 

Though she had stopped crying several minutes ago, she couldn’t bring herself to break the embrace. For all that he was arrogant, and she usually found him annoying, for the first time since the whole Leviathan fiasco began, she felt a measure of comfort.

And, as strange as it was to her, this stolen moment was the first time she had felt safe since the whole fiasco started. Even though it couldn’t last much longer - even with the blinds closed, someone was bound to come barging in - she wanted to enjoy it while she could.

“Peggy?” He whispered, hearing her grow quiet; she wondered if he thought she’d fallen asleep.

As he began to pull away, her arms slipped around his back and held him to her, her head resting on his chest. “Just… give me a moment, please,” She asked, her voice soft and watery.

“As long as you need,” He replied, and shifted slightly so he could rest his chin on the top of her head. “As long as you need.”


End file.
